


Roll for Initiative

by trashtrashtrash03



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, First Kiss, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sex-Neutral Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, and I for one think theyre so valid, both the boys are trans but the fic isnt really About That so i wont use the tags, cannot communicate for their lives, damn fools, god love that tag, i just wanted you to know that, jonmartin, lets play a ttrpg, the filename for this fic in my computer is 'eyes emoji.doc', these men are clowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashtrashtrash03/pseuds/trashtrashtrash03
Summary: Jon wants to play a ttrpg with Martin.Martin, who has never heard of those, absolutely loses his mind when Jon asks him about roleplay.Shenanigans and soft relationship negotiations ensue.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 28
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic is, in general, Quite Soft. I rated it T because of some frank conversation about sex, but nothing so specific as to merit an E rating (at least, I don't think).  
> This idea has been living in my head rent-free since the scottish safehouse episode and I have chosen to ignore all following canon. Apocalypse who? I literally don't know her.

Since arriving at Daisy’s safe house a few weeks ago, they had fallen into a tentative routine.

Martin would wake first. While the morning mist rolled off the loch and across the Scottish hills, he would sit on the porch with a cup of tea and watch the sky lighten. The rolling fog reminded him of the Lonely, but not necessarily in a bad way. He would never say that he missed it, or that he was ungrateful for Jon’s daring rescue, but he would be lying if he said it hadn’t been… peaceful. No one in the world could watch him, measure him against any assumptions or expectations. After years working under constant, cutting scrutiny at the Magnus Institute, inadvertently serving the Eye, it had been an acute relief to feel completely unseen. Just as someone who suffered under the Buried may long for the Vast, Martin had escaped the Eye and embraced the Lonely.

Some days he would sit like that for hours, until his limbs went cold and his eyes fogged over. On those days, Jon would come outside with his own cup of tea and sit beside him on the porch, silently radiating body heat and companionship until Martin could feel again.

But today, the sun had been bright and warm on his face, and the distant sound of cows lowing in the field nearby kept Martin grounded in the present. He was not alone anymore.

On days like today, he would finish his tea and return to the kitchen to pull together some sort of breakfast before Jon woke up. The sound of his clattering or the smell of food would eventually rouse Jon, who would stumble into the room looking adorably rumpled and sit at the counter until Martin pressed a cup of tea into his half-conscious hands.

They would eat together, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes chatting. Never Talking. They hadn’t properly Talked about anything since leaving London. Not the Institute, not Daisy and Basira, not even their… well, whatever was budding between them.

After breakfast, they would spend some time working on the house. It was an ancient little cottage, just past the point of charming and into true disrepair. Some days they messed about with the pipes, trying to get the bathroom sink to run hot. Some days they patched holes in the roof that leaked a bit when it rained. Some days they hand-washed their laundry in the tub. Some days they just cleaned, participating in that Sisyphusian battle against entropy. It seemed that no matter how frequently they scrubbed or wiped or washed, every surface would be covered in a thin layer of dust the next time they examined it, and so the cleaning never truly ended. It was a laborious existence, but simple and rewarding.

On days like today, Martin would look out the window and see Jon struggling to get their wet clothes hung up on the drying line. His natural curls would blow into his face when the wind picked up, and his brow would furrow a tiny bit every time he had to raise up on tiptoe to reach the lines. Martin would abandon whatever task he was at and just take in the view, unable to repress a smile. How lucky he would feel to see Jonathan Sims hanging their shared washing on a line on a sunny day. He would imagine going back in time and telling his younger self about it, back when his feelings for Jon were just an ill-advised workplace crush. He would make himself laugh imagining his own reaction.

They would tire of their chores around midday and settle in together for lunch – usually leftovers, as Martin was notorious for cooking far too much food in the evenings. Jon didn’t actually need food to sustain himself anymore, but he made a good show of eating a bit for Martin’s sake, and he did sometimes compliment Martin’s cooking – although Martin was rather certain the food was nothing special and Jon was just trying to be nice.

Their afternoons were leisurely. Usually, they would while away the time together in the little sitting room that adjoined to the kitchen. There was a bookshelf by the fireplace which was filled with an impressive collection – impressive in its ability to contain _so many_ books of absolutely _no_ interest to either of them. Jon still managed to struggle through a few. Martin couldn’t be bothered. He filled his time with writing. Sometimes poetry, sometimes stream of consciousness journaling. Sometimes he just sat with his notebook open in his lap and drowsed while Jon curled into his side, eyes on whichever novel had promised to be the least mind-numbing. Sometimes they chatted. Never Talked. Just chatted.

Once evening fell, Martin would extricate himself from Jon’s grasp to cook something. Their options were limited, as the only grocer within walking distance serviced a very small town with a very limited palate – neeps and tatties, bangers and mash, salmon and skink. Martin felt like he was getting the hang of Scottish cuisine.

After tea, they would go up to bed together. It had been… unexpectedly easy, sharing a bed with Jon. The first night, they had been too bone-tired for the sleeping arrangement to register as awkward, and too shaken from the horrors of the day to even consider one of them taking the couch. When Martin woke up that first morning, he found that Jon, in his sleep, had tucked himself neatly into Martin’s side with his head nestled in the crook of Martin’s neck. The following night, Martin climbed into bed and was immediately and ruthlessly cuddled. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, for fear of shattering the moment, or making Jon pull away, so he just. Held Jon. And with absolutely no discussion from either of them, that became the new normal. It wasn’t even limited to sleeping, it seemed. Held hands in the mornings, gentle hugs when Martin got home from the village, cuddles on the couch. Every so often, Jon would initiate a new form of quiet intimacy as if they’d been married for years, and Martin would silently accept it, delighted and usually blushing. No conversation necessary.

Honestly, Martin was over the moon. He never would have imagined Jon to be so free with physical affection. But he remained tensed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was loath to ask, for fear of getting an answer he didn’t want to hear, but he had no idea what Jon’s intentions were. Was he simply trying to keep Martin grounded in the present, fending off what remained of the Lonely? Was he this intimate with everyone he experienced a trauma with? He certainly seemed to get very close to Daisy after they were Buried together. But Jon never smiled at Daisy the way he smiled at Martin these days. Martin had spent years cataloguing Jon’s smiles, and there was no precedent for the warmth and trust he imbued into a Martin-smile. He knew, on some level, that something special was bubbling between them. But what, exactly? Martin couldn’t say.

Martin was musing on these thoughts on one such leisurely afternoon. He had intended to put some of his thoughts to the page, but as it happened on many a sunny afternoon, the notebook sat unused on the couch next to him. He had tipped his head back to soak in the sunlight filtering through the window, eyes drifting shut. Jon was reading some dreadful romance novel with his head was pillowed in Martin’s lap. He hummed happily when Martin rested a hand on Jon’s stomach. The rise and fall of Jon’s steady breathing and the _swish_ of turning pages had soothed him into a drowse.

Martin was roused back to full consciousness when Jon spoke.

“The other day, I was cleaning out the hall closet.”

“Hm?” Martin prompted Jon to continue, not opening his eyes.

“I… I found a set of dice.” Jon hedged, sounding nervous for some reason.

“Oh?” Martin lazily let his eyes open and fall on the man in his lap. Jon’s eyes were still on his book, but he had clearly stopped reading. His affect was very transparently feigned-casual, but Martin was too warm and afternoon-sleepy to suss out the reason for the other man’s nerves.

“Do you… have any experience with roleplaying games?”

Martin jolted, and felt his brain record-scratch. “ _What?”_ Well, he was certainly awake now.

Jon finally looked up at him directly, scowling at having been dislodged. His brows were furrowed and his hackles were raised. “What?”

Martin gaped like a fish down at him for a moment before letting the words in his brain fall directly out of his mouth. “Of _course_ I don’t have any – do _you?!”_

Jon sat up from where he had been laying, sitting diagonally on the couch to face Martin. There was a familiar, defensive tension in his shoulders. “Well, you don’t have to sound so scandalized, there’s hardly anything _wrong_ with it.”

“Oh, god, of course there’s not. No, there’s nothing wrong with—I’m sorry.” Martin’s faculties were slowly coming back online. His – Jon _,_ who he lived with and loved and slept next to every night, had just nervously probed Martin for his interest in roleplay and he had balked like a puritan. Was Martin interested in roleplay? Not inherently, no, but he was certainly interested in Jon. Was this Jon’s way of telling Martin, finally, that he reciprocates his feelings? ‘I see you’ isn’t the traditional reply to ‘I love you’, but what about their situation _was_ traditional? Maybe Jon thought he had said it all, already, and it was time to move onto phase two.

Parallel to that line of thinking, Martin considered the fact that he thought Jon was uninterested in sex _at all_ – but he didn’t _know_ that, did he? He was basing this assumption off of half-heard rumors. They hadn’t Talked about it. If this was something Jon needed in order to initiate that kind of intimacy, if this was something Jon wanted, how could Martin say no?

“I don’t have any experience with, uh, with that. Of course there’s nothing wrong with it, though, and if you’re interested, I’d be willing to try it. Sorry, I just – I’m surprised you, uh...”

“What, you’re surprised I like to play games and have fun?” The tension had bled out of Jon’s posture as soon as Martin apologized, and his tone slid into something closer to dry teasing.

“Well, word around the Institute was that you’re not, uh. Into that? That you, uh, you don’t.” At the moment, just getting the words to come out of his mouth in the right order was a challenge.

“Well, I’d hardly want to play with anyone at the Institute, I was their boss. Despite our dynamic, yours and mine, I did try to maintain some sense of professionalism around the workplace.”

_Our dynamic, yours and mine._ What did _that_ mean?

“I, uh, actually heard it from Georgie. Secondhand, though.” Martin shrunk a bit, gearing up to apologize for engaging in lurid gossip about him with his ex.

Jon shook his head in confusion. “ _Georgie_ said that? Georgie and I played all the time in uni. I was her first dungeon master, that’s how we _met.”_

Martin’s brain skipped the tracks again. _Dungeon master._ What the _fuck._ He could feel a blush rising into his cheeks and he barely stopped himself choking on his own spit.

“Wow, someone must have had some _really bad_ information. Sorry, Jon, I shouldn’t have listened.” He reached out slowly to place a tentative hand over Jon’s where it rested on his knee. God, they were discussing _roleplay_ and he couldn’t even confidently hold the man’s _hand,_ how was this his life?

Jon turned his hand over, threading their fingers together, easy as anything. “Hardly your fault for just hearing a rumor. Although, a very specific one.” His lips ticked up in a wry smile.

“Well, we were all going a bit crazy towards the end there. Nothing to do around the archives besides gossip, I suppose.” Martin’s fingers fidgeted awkwardly between Jon’s. He could still feel his face burning, hot and red, god he must be glowing his embarrassment like a stoplight. “Did you, uh, want to try it. Sometime soon?”

Jon nodded, shrugged easily. _How does he look so calm right now?_ “I could probably draft a quick scenario that we could play through tonight, if you’d like. I don’t have any of my usual tools with me, except the dice of course, but seeing as you’re a beginner, it’s probably best to keep it relatively simple.”

Martin gulped heavily. There were _tools._ He didn’t fully understand the significance of the dice, but he was too shy to ask outright. He managed to nod.

“Do you mind if I use your notebook?”

“My- my notebook?” Martin looked stupidly down at the object in question, still sitting open at his side.

Jon’s eyes searched his face. “Yes, just to help me plan the session. I’ll need to get some thoughts together. Are you alright, Martin, you seem quite flushed?”

“Hah!” He balked again. “Just, taken off guard I suppose. I’m alright. I’m. Excited?” He didn’t mean to phrase it as a question, but even after he spoke the word he wasn’t sure it was accurate. He couldn’t really feel anything under the thrum of confusion and sheer fucking disbelief.

“Well, if you decide you’re not having a good time, we can always stop. It’ll be nice, in a way, that your first time is just you and me. We can tailor the session towards whatever we both like best. Sometimes, if you get a big group together for a session, it can get a bit out of hand, and it can be a bit overstimulating, especially for new players.”

Martin felt like his eyes were going to goggle right out of his head. “Have you- done it with a big group like that before?”

Jon nodded, smiling fondly. “Oh yes, I led a session with ten players once, it lasted for nearly eight hours. I think I slept for the entire following day.” He chuckled at the memory.

_Ten._ Martin couldn’t handle this. Jon was discussing it like he was talking about the weather, very collected and casual. Clearly, he was not only interested in sex, but completely comfortable with it in a way that Martin knew he couldn’t ever achieve. Knowing that Jon had—with so many people at once – for _eight hours._ He couldn’t possibly hold a candle to his level of experience. Martin had slept with exactly two people in his life, and both times it had been very normal, vanilla, monogamous sex between established partners. It seemed like he would have a lot of catching up to do if he wanted to keep up with Jon. And, wow, wasn’t that the _last_ thing he’d thought he would need to be insecure about in this relationship?

But then Jon smiled at him, and it was so _soft,_ Martin couldn’t help but think it would be alright. Whatever Jon had planned, he would do his best and it would be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

“Alright, are you ready?”

Martin gulped but nodded. Jon looked completely unruffled – well, no more ruffled than normal. Martin had sat himself on the couch, and Jon had dragged in a kitchen chair to sit directly across from him. The coffee table between them was bare, save for the set of dice Jon had found earlier and Martin’s notebook, two pages visibly filled with Jon’s illegible scribbles. Jon had a pen stuck behind his ear, and they both had a cup of tea in front of them. The vibe was decidedly unsexy – if anything, it felt like he was about to be interviewed – but he trusted Jon to channel their energy in whatever direction this ‘session’ was supposed to take.

“Excellent. Let me set the scene. I’ve based this session off an old system I’ve played before called ‘Into the Odd’, which is traditionally set in a sort of alternative Victorian-era, steampunk London. Think, steam engines, clockwork mechanics, but also, aliens, subterranean civilizations, and a thriving market for a drug called Ether.” Jon’s eyes flickered back and forth between Martin’s face and his notebook, where he’d jotted these details down. “A benefit of this system is that it makes character creation quite straightforward. Roll a d20 and we’ll see what character you’ll be playing.”

Martin blinked at Jon, gaping slightly, before Jon started forward. “Oh, sorry, 20-sided die. D20. It’s this one.” He leaned forward and handed a very befuddled Martin the die.

The sound of the die clattering against the table resonated through the empty cottage. Martin had to clear his throat twice before speaking. “I rolled a twenty. Is that- is that good?”

Jon was skimming the notebook, looking for something. “Depends on what you’re rolling for, for now it doesn’t much matter. Alright, a 20 means that you are actually playing as a group of three urchins. You’ve all been living on the street together for so long, you function as one being, so fluent in nonverbal communication with one another that it borders on the telepathic. When it comes to strength, dexterity, or constitution rolls, however, all three of you must be working together on the same task to make the full use of your stat.”

Martin squinted at Jon for a good few seconds. His role, his _character,_ was to be three street urchins? _Aren’t street urchins normally children?_ Maybe he was misremembering that. He tried to picture a trio of old-fashioned, definitely fully grown adult chimney sweeps like from Mary Poppins. He supposed there was some dashing charm to lean into there. But, three? “I… don’t think I understand.” He didn’t even get around to boggling out what Jon had meant by strength rolls or stats. He supposed it wasn’t so much a surprise that when Jon did like to have sex, he would want it to be so structured and planned out as to include statistics somehow, but he couldn’t imagine where it would come to use.

Jon nodded and hummed. “Yes, that’s a bit complicated for a first timer. It’s quite an interesting way to play, as more than one person, but maybe to start I’ll just assign you a character I think would be easy.” He traced a finger down the page in front of him before looking back up. “How about a noble? A young noble, plenty of money and connections, setting out on an adventure to prove himself or simply experience something new? That’s flexible enough to suit whatever play style you like.”

A noble could be sexy, right? _Is that classist, to think a noble is inherently sexier than an urchin?_ Martin shook his head clear. “What, uh, what character will you be?”

Jon’s eyebrows raised for a moment, surprised. “Oh, the dungeon master doesn’t have one set character. I’ll be driving the story, and occasionally giving you characters to roleplay against, but they’ll be considered NPC’s. Non-playable characters. It’s my job to create the world and populate it with people for you to interact with, but you will be the only true player.”

Martin’s imagination conjured the image of Jon leaving the room in the middle of sex to reenter and pretend to be a different person, maybe wearing different hats each time, and he couldn’t contain a bubble of laughter. How could anyone possibly focus on getting off through something so silly?

Jon’s eyebrows quirked down, like he was about to be insecure about Martin laughing at him, so Martin waved his concern away. “Sorry, I, uh. I don’t think I fully understand but I trust you. You’ve got more experience with this than me, so I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

Jon squinted at him suspiciously but returned his attention to the notebook in front of him, getting ready to launch into another explanation of the game’s setting.

The next hour or so passed in this fashion. Jon would narrate the story, and prompt Martin to make a choice. He seemed to sense Martin’s general sense of overwhelm and kept the choices straightforward and relatively limited. “Which path would you like to go down?” “What would you like to say to the person who’s approached you?” Things of that sort. Martin kept nervously waiting for something… sexual to happen, in the story, but overall it was just a stroll through Odd London, culminating in a quick and very confusing shootout with a fishperson in a sewer. After Jon announced that he had slayed the beast and he would be rewarded when he returned to the city, he leaned back and shut the notebook. A satisfied smile graced his features, and Martin started to feel his nerves ebb.

“Was- was that it?” He wrung his hands together.

Jon nodded. “If you enjoyed it, we could play more into this universe. I haven’t drafted anything further, but if you give me some time, I could put together another quest for you.”

Martin watched him for a few seconds before bursting into relieved laughter. All the tension he’d been feeling dissipated at once as full understanding dawned. “So- that, that’s what you meant when you said a roleplaying game? I _play a role_ in a little adventure story you put together, and that’s the whole game? We’re done now?”

Jon’s expression had morphed into something confused and defensive again. Martin wanted to lean forward and press a kiss to that furrowed brow, but he knew it wouldn’t be received at the moment. “Well, yes. I’m sorry if it didn’t live up to your imaginings.” He crossed his arms over his chest, properly scowling at Martin. “If you weren’t enjoying it, you could have said, and we could have stopped.”

Martin wished he could stop laughing long enough to reassure Jon, but the whole scenario was too unbelievable. All this time, he’d been anxiously awaiting (dreading?) the moment when the game would become some contrived scene from a shitty porno, and all Jon had wanted from the beginning was to play whatever nerd game he and his friends had enjoyed so much in his uni days. It was unbearably sweet.

Jon huffed again and stood up. “Well, I’m sorry to have wasted your time-“

Martin cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him down onto the couch beside him. Jon came willingly, but remained stiff and pouty in the face of Martin’s laughter. He also, Martin noted acutely, did not retract his hand from Martin’s grasp.

“Jon, I’m sorry. I did have fun. I think. I just- when you asked me if I had any experience with _roleplay…”_

Jon continued to look at him with that indignant scowl. Martin raised his eyebrows significantly, and he saw his point drive home. Jon’s face melted through shock and into embarrassment.

“ _Oh.”_ The pieces were visibly falling into place in Jon’s eyes. Everything they’d discussed that day, through a different lens. His nose wrinkled in disgust. “Obviously that wouldn’t be what I meant!”

“How on Earth was I supposed to assume you meant _this!”_ Martin gestured to the table, where the dice and notebook still sat. “You say ‘roleplay’ and you think the first thing that comes to mind is this niche game you played with some friends in uni? _”_

“RPG’s are hardly _niche,_ Martin, everyone has at least heard of them. Dungeons and Dragons? Pathfinder? Call of Cthulu?”

Martin shook his head, stifling laughter. “Nope. You’re just a nerd.”

Jon scowled harder, but Martin could tell it was good-natured this time. It was in the eyes, see. Jon’s dark eyes sparkled with mirth even as his face said _grumpygrumpygrumpy how Dare you._

He soaked in Martin’s laughter, fighting a wry smile, for a moment before a thought seemed to occur to him. He sobered.

“Well. Sorry if my ‘little adventure story’ wasn’t what you’d been hoping for this evening, but I suppose I should tell you directly. I-“ He sighed deeply. “I, uh. Don’t.”

Martin’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. “ _Don’t what?!_ Obviously we’ve been on completely different pages about this all day long so we’re just going to have to buck up and talk. Using words, and complete sentences, that actually express our thoughts.”

“I’m asexual.” Jon spoke clearly and loudly, cutting through Martin’s exasperated rant. He leveled a challenging glare, obviously braced for some kind of reproach.

“I _knew it!_ That’s what I was trying to ask you earlier!” Martin threw his unoccupied hand into the air.

Jon’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that response. “Earlier? When did-? Oh. Georgie’s rumor. Yes, that’s, uh. That makes much more sense in this context.”

They made wild eye contact for exactly five seconds before Martin broke down into hysterical laughter. Jon couldn’t suppress his own chuckles, although he remained partially on guard.

“Oh my god, Jon, I knew you were, well, something to that effect, but then you assured me you had so much _experience”_ Jon’s eyes widened in horror, but Martin continued babbling, “and I know we’ve been, I don’t know, kind of affectionate together, but we haven’t even _kissed_ or anything and I didn’t know if you even _wanted_ that, I _still_ don’t know, and then you just sat down with a set of dice like nothing was unusual, and I-“

“I do.”

“You- what?”

“I do. Want that. To- to kiss you.” Jon barely managed to complete the sentence, and Martin could almost hear the blush climbing up his cheeks, even if his dark complexion obscured it from view.

Martin stared at him for long enough that Jon started to fidget under his gaze.

“Jonathan Sims. We have been here, in this tiny cottage, together, for weeks. Why haven’t you said anything?!”

“Well, that’s hardly fair, you haven’t said anything either!”

Their voices were both raised, and they gesticulated wildly at each other.

“I told you that I love you!”

“You said _loved_.”

“I- what?” The rug had been pulled out from under Martin’s indignation, and he softened immediately. Jon did as well.

“In the Lonely, you said that you had loved me. Past tense. I’d been gone a long time, before you started working for Peter, and a lot had changed. I didn’t know if, well, if you still… When we were leaving London, you were so distant and foggy, you were barely holding on. I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t want to push. I thought you would bring it up when you were ready.” Jon’s eyes remained on their held hands.

“Oh, Jon.” Martin couldn’t help but wrap the smaller man up in a hug. “God, we’re bad at this, aren’t we?”

He felt, more than heard, Jon huff a laugh in response.

Martin retreated from the hug just enough to press his forehead against Jon’s, slowly, so that he could pull away if he wanted to. He did not.

“Jon, I love you. Present tense. Past, present, and future.”

Jon’s eyes flickered up to meet Martin’s. “And I love you.”

Martin had thought hearing those words for the first time would feel like a punch in the chest, like the stomach drop of a roller coaster, but here, in their safe house, miles away from any of the things that wanted to hurt them, it just felt like something finally slotting into place. Something that had been true for so long, finally aired.

“Can I kiss you?” Martin gently nuzzled against Jon’s nose.

“ _Please.”_

Jon remained perfectly still while Martin leaned in to press their lips together in a chaste kiss. It was only after Martin reached up to cup Jon’s cheek that he seemed to come alive against him, kissing him back slowly and sweetly.

They remained close like this, sometimes kissing, sometimes whispering their love, sometimes just sitting close, for the rest of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refer to Georgie as a lesbian in passing in this chapter. I wrote it before the WTG episode dropped where she mentions going on a date with a guy. I didn't really want to rewrite that section as I was quite happy with it as is but just know that I know that Georgie is bi and we do not stan bi erasure in this house. Georgie is definitely bisexual in another fic I am working on.

The moonlight coming in from the window highlighted Jon’s slight frame as he clambered into bed. Martin sighed happily as a familiar weight settled onto his broad chest. Jon tucked his nose into Martin’s shoulder, and when Martin pressed a kiss into his curls, he hummed contentedly. Martin was put in mind of a happy cat. The comparison made him smile.

“Jon?”

“Hmm?” He wound his arms around Martin’s plush stomach in a hug.

“Would you tell me more about asexuality?”

Martin felt Jon take a deep breath against him “Well, it’s different for everyone. I can tell you about my experience?”

“That’s the part of it that would interest me most anyway.” Martin nodded. Jon squeezed him gently, reasserting the hug.

“Well, fundamentally, asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction. The subjective experience of other people’s sex appeal is simply not applicable to me. In addition to that, I have what I’ve come to understand is a much lower libido than the average person. I’ve noticed a spike in accordance with my hormonal cycles, but usually I just ignore it. Sometimes I masturbate, but honestly I usually get bored or distracted before I finish. More trouble than it’s worth, in my opinion. I am not, I don’t think, fully sex repulsed. I have had sex before and it was not the worst experience of my life…” He paused to think for a moment. “Ahem. I just realized that statement doesn’t hold much water, considering some of my other life experiences.” They shared a dry laugh. “Let me rephrase. Sex is not dreadful, for me. I just, don’t particularly enjoy it. It’s, well, it’s messy and you have to hold your body at all sorts of odd angles for long stretches of time, it’s. Just not my favorite pastime. I prefer other forms of intimacy.” As if to punctuate his thought, he pressed a closed mouth kiss to Martin’s collarbone.

“Thanks for telling me that, Jon.” Martin started rubbing a hand up and down Jon’s back. “Is there any kind of touching you specifically don’t like? While we’re talking about intimacy and stuff.”

“Obviously genitals are off the table.” Jon hummed thoughtfully. “My knees get sore, they’re very sensitive and I’d appreciate if you didn’t knock against them with your legs. I can’t think of anything else at the moment, but I will tell you if something arises.”

“I appreciate that.” Martin pressed another kiss into the mess of Jon’s curls. “I’m a bit ticklish in some spots, but nothing is a hard no for me.”

Comfortable silence stretched between them, and Martin thought Jon might have drifted off before he spoke again.

“Are you disappointed?” His voice was so low Martin nearly missed it.

“What?” Martin shuffled to look down at Jon, who let his eyes flicker up to Martin’s before reverting his gaze away.

“Are you disappointed? About. Me.” He bit the words out through slightly bared teeth, as if they tasted bad. He looked so small, asking this question.

“What, that you’re asexual?” He waited for Jon to nod. “Of course not. Hey,” He brought a hand up to Jon’s chin, tipping his head back gently so their eyes could meet. “ _Of course not._ ” He said with fervor. Jon held his gaze but still looked wary, so he continued. “I love you, Jon. Not because I want to shag you, alright? I love you because you’re brilliant, and strong, and dedicated, and because despite all this bullshit you’ve been through, you still _care_ about being good, about minimizing the amount of harm and fear in the world. You pulled me out of the Lonely. You pulled _Daisy_ out of the Buried, and you two didn’t even like each other beforehand. You are fucking remarkable, Jon, and you deserve to be loved the way you need.”

Jon’s hands were gripping Martin’s tshirt tightly, shaking his head. He had winced slightly at each kind word, as if they were hurting him. “You’re the remarkable one, Martin, and you deserve the love you need. If… if the sexual aspect of a relationship is important to you, I would understand, we could work something out-“

“It’s not, though.” Martin cut in confidently. Jon’s brow furrowed briefly in clear bafflement. Martin pressed on. “The love I need doesn’t have anything to do with sex. What I _need,_ is this.” He tightened his arms where they had wound around the smaller man’s frame. “I need to be close to you. I need to see you soft, with your guard down. I need you to let me take care of you. I need to feel like you trust me. Sex hardly factors into that, even less so considering you wouldn’t even enjoy it.” Jon continued to look up at him with wary skepticism, so Martin continued. “I don’t want to have sex with you if you wouldn’t independently enjoy it. We can just keep things like this.”

Jon worried at his lower lip, eyes lowered. “Will that really be enough? Just, just this?” He weakly jostled their held arms again, using their position as a verbal place marker for nonsexual intimacy.

Martin nearly rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Is this enough? This is so much more than I could have ever hoped for. If you’d told me three years ago I’d be holding you while we slept in the same bed, I’d have passed straight out. I can’t even begin to – Would my love be enough for you if I told you I never wanted to play one of your silly adventure games again? Would that be a deal breaker?”

Jon’s eyes flashed with brief indignation, and Martin could see the defense he was building in his head rise and fall away. He sighed and chuckled quietly. “Point taken.”

He settled back down, nose pressing into the crook of Martin’s neck. Martin could feel the puffs of warm air tickling the hairs there, making him shiver. He continued to rub soothing circles across Jon’s back and waited for the tension to dissipate. It did not.

“Martin, if-“

“Oh my God, Jon.”

“Please, just. One more thing.” Jon looked up at him again, leaning back slightly. “If you ever start to change your mind about any of this, please tell me. We can work something out.”

“I really-“

“I know you’re going to reassure me that you won’t, that it’s all fine, and I appreciate that, but… I have had relationships… sour, over time, because someone’s feelings on this matter changed and it went unaddressed for too long. Resentment builds and festers and it can get very unpleasant.”

Martin hummed thoughtfully. “You’re not talking about Georgie.”

Jon huffed out of his nose. “No, Georgie knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t be happy with a sexless lifestyle. She has the benefit of being polyamorous, though, so while I didn’t sleep with her, she had other partners who did, and we were happy. Our relationship was always good. We only broke up because I started to transition, and, well. Georgie is a lesbian, I’m a man – it’s a bit of a nonstarter. No, this person I’m referring to is not anyone you would know. We haven’t had any contact since we broke up.”

Martin hummed again. “Sorry to hear that happened to you. I understand what you’re saying, about resentment poisoning relationships. It was a bit like that with my mum. After starting T, I started looking so much like my dad. I think to her, I just looked like all the reasons her life was shitty, and there would never be anything I could do to counterbalance that. Obviously that’s quite different, but I think I know where you’re coming from.” He remembered everything he gave up to support his mum in her later years – dropping out of school, bouncing from shit job to shit job before squirming his way into the Institute – and wondered for a moment if the resentment had flowed both ways. He’d loved his mum, of course he had, but could he honestly say he didn’t blame her for all the shit that was wrong with his life? When he got home from work at the end of a long day and saw her face, pallid after months of treatments, was the spark of misplaced anger completely absent? God, it was no wonder Peter had honed in on Martin. What could be lonelier than constantly blaming the only significant person in your life, knowing they blame you just the same? To hold love for someone in the same space in your heart as a grudge. To be steeped in such bitterness, to be confined by it, for so long.

Jon started to trace little patterns onto the skin of his arm, grounding him in the present. Martin wondered if he had started to go foggy at the edges, or if Jon was just that perceptive. Martin steeled himself against the creeping cold. He was in love, he wasn’t alone anymore. “I love you, Jon. I really don’t think you need to be concerned with me, but if my feelings change, if I start to feel, uh, limited. Sexually. I will let you know.”

The tension finally bled all the way out of Jon’s shoulders. “Thank you, Martin. As I said, we can always work something out. I know the opportunities for you to take another partner may be limited for the time being but – “

“I don’t want that.” Martin shook his head. “I, uh, definitely respect polyamory, but I don’t know if I could do it. I’ve got a jealous streak a mile wide, and I know that jealousy is rooted in insecurity, but frankly I don’t see my insecurities going away anytime soon.”

Jon hummed. “Understood.”

“Is- is that okay? That I’m pretty solidly monogamous?”

“Oh, of course. I don’t really have a preference, monogamy or not, as long as expectations are clearly communicated.”

Martin stifled a laugh. “You know us. Clearest communicators in the game. Couldn’t be better.”

He felt Jon’s shoulders shake, and he could picture the self-deprecating smile that Jon was pressing into his chest. “Yes, well. I think we’re both allowed a bit of a learning curve on that.” He lifted his head to make eye contact with Martin. His dark eyes caught the moonlight and Martin had to suppress a gasp at the feeling of being so _seen_ but also so safe under Jon’s gaze. “Thank you for having this conversation with me. I know it’s a bit uncomfortable.” He kissed Martin’s shoulder gently.

“Thank you for trusting me to have this conversation.” He squeezed again. “Although, I wish we’d had it a bit earlier. I was so _anxious_ the whole time we were playing that game, trying to figure out how fighting monsters with dice was supposed to be _sexy.”_

Jon laughed loud and hard. The sound filled Martin’s chest with a feeling like honey, thick and golden. “When I told you you’d be entering combat for the first time you looked _so frightened-”_ he was nearly choking on his laughter now. “I had no idea why.”

Martin’s chest shook with laughter. “You were talking about being a dungeon master and describing the hit point system and I was like – oh my god I’ve gone and fallen in love with a hardcore sadist.”

They laughed together in the darkness, trading quips back and forth about how elements of the game could have been misinterpreted. After a while, their laughter settled into contented silence.

“I did like it, though.”

“The game?”

Martin hummed an affirmative.

“Well, we should play again sometime. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. The storytelling aspect is very satisfying, like the opposite of taking a statement.”

“You’re quite good at it, love. You get into your archivist voice, it’s captivating. It feels like I’m there.”

“ _Archivist voice?”_

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Do you really not do it on purpose?”

Jon lifted his head to squint at Martin.

“Wow, I’ve really just showed my hand there, haven’t I?” Martin brought his free hand up to his blushing face, covering his eyes.

Through his fingers, he could see Jon’s expression morph through confusion into self-satisfied amusement. “Do you… like my voice, Martin?”

He groaned.

“ _Martin?”_

“Yes! Okay! I always have, from the very beginning. First thing I thought when I heard you speak to me directly was, ‘fuck, my hot boss has a golden voice, I’m doomed’ and my second thought was ‘fuck, my hot boss just used that golden voice to threaten my job over a dog, didn’t he?’”

Jon’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. “Oh, Martin, I am so sorry. I was such a bastard at the start, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Martin chuckled.

“I know it’s no excuse, but if it’s any consolation, I think my curtness towards you was partially rooted in my inability to process my attraction to you.”

“ _Attraction?!”_

Jon pushed up slightly to brush their noses together. “Yes, _attraction.”_ Even while cuddled up together, discussing the beginnings of their budding romance, Jon managed to sound condescending. “Is it so surprising that I’d have been attracted to you? So tall, broad shoulders, sweet smile, talking about making friends with a street dog. If I wasn’t so emotionally stunted, I’d have realized in a moment that you were going to become very important to me.”

“Okay, bold of you to describe yourself as emotionally stunted in the past tense.”

Jon made an exaggerated wounded sound.

“Jon, we literally discussed our feelings for each other, for the very first time, today.”

“I told you, I was waiting until you were less…”

“Lonely?”

“Well, yes.”

“You didn’t think telling me that you _love_ me would make me less lonely?”

Jon harrumphed dramatically and rolled onto his other side, facing away from Martin. He muttered, “This is what I get for trying to be patient and respectful.”

Martin laughed softly for a moment, and then louder when Jon, still grumbling, reached behind him to grab at Martin and pull him closer. Martin happily obliged, spooning Jon tightly against his chest.

“You are a ridiculous man.” He murmured into Jon’s hair.

“I love you, too.” Came the reply.


End file.
